


LN:AS4698D

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:29:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The battle was going really well until the scientific query regarding energy combination was answered in the following form: fusion cannon blast + spacebridge energy = Very Bad Idea. This is the <strike>biased</strike> account of what happened after, from the point of view of one of the affected mechs.” Blades frowned as he crossed out First Aid's addition to his datapad and replaced it with 'true'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	LN:AS4698D

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naboru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/gifts).



> Giftfic for the annual transformers gift exchange on Livejournal and Dreamwidth.

It had all been going so well. The Decepticons were slowly being driven back, away from the spacebridge. Defensor and Computron were holding the ground while Superion was circling overhead and the smaller Decepticons didn't want to tangle with the combiners. No, they waited for Menasor and Bruticus to gather their components and start a mad suicidal charge. Except... they never made it. Blades remember that part, the stray fusion blast that had been deflected as Prime pushed Megatron's cannon aside. And then...

Well, there had been a big flash of light, and then a deep pressure, enough that it was easier to split into components and roll with the flow. A flow which sent them all away from the roiling mass of energy that had been the spacebridge until it decided to join together with fusion cannon energy. At least, he had been heading away until something very solid had slammed into him and propelled him back towards the spacebridge. He'd a moment to identify the object as a high speed Decepticon (Bruticus and Menasor clearly didn't have time to stop and at the speed they were going would most likely end up bypassing the energy entirely. Except when their trajectory was also altered by an Autobot moving in a different direction.)

And then he was in the middle of a waist high field of red grass like stalks wondering where exactly he was with regards to Earth. And what had happened to the aforementioned high speed projectile Decepticon that he had collided with? He did, of course, attempt to ping his surroundings, but it was just his luck that the energy field had fried his entire communications to slag. Everything, short range comm, long range comm, emergency beacon, identity marker in case another mech pinged him. Everything.

The gestalt link was something the malfunctioning spacebridge couldn't knock offline and it was therefore his only link to the fact that he wasn't alone out here. One of his gestalt was here, or at least, one of them felt much closer than the other three, so he assumed one was here.

That then, would be the direction he would go.

Of course it wouldn't be that easy. 

**Transformation sequence inoperable. Transformation cog 4R not responding.**

Sometimes he really hated his own operating system.

So walking it was. Joy. Just what he always wanted to do. Have rotors, will walk. He stomped off through the long grass, brushing it aside as he angled towards the faint sense of gestalt he had. Whoever it was must have still been offline. He had to confess that he was hoping it would be Aid, if only to get his slagging transformation cog fixed so that he could get back in the air. On the bright side his weapon transformations were all still working perfectly. Not that he tested them until he found the high speed projectile Decepticon he had been wondering about earlier.

Now, he would like to say that he saw the Decepticon and managed to subdue him after a long fight where he came out victorious. In actual fact he sort of fell over him. Well, no sort of about it. He did fall over him. He'd been so absorbed in his muttering and grumbling about the planet and the red dust gathering in the seams of his leg armour and caking his feet that he just hadn't noticed him.

He had ended up tumbling helm over aft to sprawl in the dust beside the Decepticon in a pile of flattened grass. Thing was, the Stunticon had been offline and clearly the falling over him had kickstarted him into coming back online, but by the time he had booted up it was to the business end of a cannon a few inches from his optics.

“Eeeep,” was Dead End's rather intelligent response as he froze, his optics focusing on the end of the cannon.

“Are your comms online?” Blades asked with a poke of the cannon.

Red optics flickered quickly as Dead End accessed his internal systems before returning to to his current predicament. “No.” His fans kicked in slightly as his armour pressed into his frame, his optics finally leaving the end of the cannon to dart around. “Where are we? Bet we're in the middle of nowhere and there'll be no way back.” He must have caught the annoyed expression. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Your comms aren't online either are they? So we can't contact anybody.”

How his gestalt put up with him Blades didn't know. The constant negativity was already wearing on him, and the mech had barely said anything.

“One of my gestalt is here, any of yours?” Blades asked, poking the cannon towards Dead End again to regain his wandering attention.

“No.” He said after a moment. “At least, I don't think so.”

“Right. I'm going to offer you a truce. I won't shoot you, you don't shoot me. We see who else we can find and try to get back to Earth.” Surely there couldn't just be three of them that had been propelled through there, somebody had to have hit his gestaltmate too.

Dead End squinted slightly, his optics crossing as he adjusted his focus from the cannon to his face and back to the weapon. “I suppose. It's not like I can get back on my own,” he finally said with a huff of his vents, red dust flying up in a cloud to surround him.

So that's how Blades came to be wandering through a field of bright scarlet grass beside a Decepticon without any shooting occurring. Although there could have been pretty soon if the Decepticon didn't shut up. Non stop doom this, doom that, we're never going to find anybody, we'll be stuck here forever.

Eventually he did shut up... As he dove to the ground to avoid a plasma blast that would have given him a nice new hole in his chassis if he hadn't hit the deck. “See, I _told_ you!” He pronounced, his voice slightly muffled by the fact that he had faceplanted into the dirt.

“Blades?” He too had crouched, his own cannon armed as he tried to pinpoint where the attacker was. The mech finally made himself known as he stood up from his cover slightly, his gun warily pointed at Dead End as the Decepticon scrubbed his face clean with a disgusted expression. His mask held in one hand as he tried to remove the dust that had somehow ended up on the inside of it.

“Lightspeed.” Blades said as he recognised the mech. “We've got a truce going here. He won't shoot if you won't.” He gestured at the Decepticon

That earnt Blades a sceptical expression but Lightspeed eventually flipped his weapon into subspace. “I assume you have a plan?”

“Yes,” he said at the same moment Dead End gave Lightspeed a mournful look and said, “No.”

“I don't suppose you have communications do you?” Blades asked, not at all surprised when Lightspeed shook his helm.

“I went up to the top of that ridge,” Lightspeed said with a gesture,” I think there's some sort of building on the horizon, that I would swear looks like an old Cybertronian outpost. I was going to head for there before I saw you two.”

Blades nodded at him and reached down to haul Dead End back to his feet. That was vaguely the same direction as his link suggested his wayward gestaltmate was. “We'll go that way then.”

He supposed it was too much to ask that the small fright would change anything with regards to the doom and gloom prediction service. In the end Blades just dropped back to keep pace with Lightspeed once he noticed he was limping slightly, leaving Dead End to roam in front as he continued to predict the various things that could go wrong while stranded on an alien planet in the middle of nowhere.

Lightspeed snapped first, his very loud query about whether Dead End had included being shot for being annoying into his list had created a sudden silence. A very... loud silence. Blades never understood the Earth ability to mix up their languages in a way that shouldn't be possible. But this time it totally fit. A loud silence. The sort where all the little background noises you've been hearing for a while suddenly go quiet and the absence of sound seems greater than it has any right to be.

Dead End sidled backwards, spinning around to try and keep his optics on every possible point, a suddenly wary look on his faceplates. Lightspeed huffed slightly as he shook his helm at Dead End. 

There was nothing but the faint whistle of wind rustling the long grass, the sound of venting as systems tried to keep the dust out of internals, the slide-scrape of whatever was out of place in Lightspeed's knee joint and the faint click and whirr of their joints as they moved.

Dead End whimpered as the grass shook in the non-existent breeze, pressing his frame against the Autobots, not caring about the elbow to the abdominal plating that Lightspeed gifted him with as he shivered “There's something out there.”

 _Really? You think so?_ He's not entirely sure how he refrained from saying it.

The grass shifted, just in the corner of his vision, like a wave, almost like something was... Creeping towards him. He wasn't sure why he ducked at that particular moment, In fact he was already heading for the floor when it became visible. It's body wavered into view as it passed through the space his frame had been occupying moments before and slammed into Dead End.

The Stunticon shrieked, shaking his arm to dislodge it. He got a good look at the thing before it let go and shifted back out of view. Scaly skin with a slimy layer, six sturdy legs and a strange sort of mandible.

“Ewwwww. Gross. Get it off!”

Blades edged away from Dead End as the Decepticon dropped and rolled, smearing the slime that had transferred from the creature to his arm onto the ground.

Of course, rolling around when it was still prowling around was a pretty bad plan, except Lightspeed had valiantly let loose on the surrounding area and the grass was now merrily burning away.

“Ah. Would now be the time to say that I think I've worked out where we are?” Lightspeed asked as he returned his weapon to subspace.

Blades wasn't sure whether it was his expression or his frame which told Lightspeed that he was in no mood for a guessing game.

“Uh,” Lightspeed continued, “I think we're on LN:AS4698D. This place matches the description in my databanks.”

Okay, so Blades still had no idea where they were, however the information downloads of 'stuff we should know because every Cybertronian should know it even if we'll never need it on Earth' have just become very useful. That was an old Cybertronian planetary exploration code, and LN:AS just happens to mean Landing Negative: Aggressive Species. Which he is sure should be pretty self explanatory.

"So, you know how to get home?" Blades asked hopefully.

"Uhhhh. No. I have a planetary description not a galactic map." Lightspeed said with a huff of dust from his vents.

Dead End poked at his arm and every gaze was drawn to the silvery metal. That had been covered in paint moments before. “I think they're a little acidic,” Dead End said as he stared at his arm and the acid patterns etched into the metal.

Acidic?! Blades stared down at the grass, but it didn't show any signs of something highly acidic having passed through it. How very strange. Then again, the grass wouldn't have lasted very long if it didn't have some way of dealing with whatever that thing was.

“Perhaps we should keep moving?” Lightspeed suggested. “You could fly ahead and scout,” he said to Blades.

Blades grimaced. “My main transformation cogs out, I've got weapons but nothing else.”

Lightspeed looked at Dead End, and he shook his head frantically. “No, no, no, no. I can transform but I got no weapons.” He abruptly shut up as if he had just realised what he had said and Blades could see the same understanding in Lightspeed's optics as must be in his own; the 'oh, so _that's_ why he's not shot us in the back yet' thought.

“Wonderful,” Lightspeed said as he started limping onwards again. “Guess we'll just have to continue as we were.” As they had been except now they had some sort of organic, phase shifting, acidic coated creatures stalking them.

Or maybe they'd been stalking them before that, it just that now they know they are out there.

Every possible movement in the grass was being analysed now, Dead End was almost dancing as he kept turning in circles to ensure he kept every angle in sight. He also cast Lightspeed annoyed glances every so often, not that Blades blamed him, that limp was slowing all three down a fair bit.

Yet there was no more attacks, nothing to suggest any of the creatures were even still nearby and slowly even Dead End began to relax again. Slowly. And not entirely. Blades was just getting to that point of nearly relaxed when he noticed the Decepticon had been staring intently at a hill.

“Something's coming.” Dead End said. “I think there's more of them.” The stunticon didn't waste any time in clambering up to look over the top.

Only to jump aside as he was nearly flattened by a wildly fleeing ambulance and Blades realised as he watched Dead End hit the floor again that one of the feelings of something creeping up on him hadn't been one of the creatures but his gestalt link.

“Aid?!” Blades managed to say before two more mechs crested the hill, one of them unfortunately not noticing Dead End and slamming into him. The Stunticon really wasn't having the best day for mechs falling over him as he went down hard with the other rotary mech.

“Slagging glitch, get out of my way before I carve you up as bait.” Vortex snarled as he extricated himself from Dead End.

“Keep moving.” Aid said as he tore past Lightspeed, wheels sending up a cloud of dust, leaving Blades staring at his quickly retreating bumper in bemusement.

“But I can't...” Lightspeed's protest was abruptly cut off as he was scooped into Blast Off's arms as the shuttle ran past. Vortex quickly followed, still cursing and Blades shared a look with the confused Dead End who was still checking himself over for any injuries at the top off the hill. A confused look which suddenly melted into fear as he looked over the crest of the hill to where First Aid, Blast Off and Vortex had just appeared from.

“Oh. Slag!” was all the Decepticon said before he hit the ground on all four wheels and tore after the rapidly fleeing ambulance and shuttle. With that sort of incentive (much like the sign some smart aft had found for Wheeljack's lab: 'If you see me running, try to keep up') Blades didn't bother to wait for whatever was coming, quite frankly if it was enough to make Vortex run then he wasn't going to question it. He joined the mad scramble without any second thoughts, following First Aid as he took point and made for the small building they had spotted with all speed, lights flashing and sirens wailing.

It shouldn't have surprised him that Blades soon found himself running at the back of the little column alongside Vortex, Helicopters were not made for sprinting on the ground. First Aid and Dead End were fine on four wheels, and Blast Off, even with Lightspeed slung unceremoniously over his shoulder, was making good time.

Vortex chanced a look behind them and his renewed swearing didn't sound promising. If Blades hadn't been concentrating on running he would have winced at the grind of damaged parts moving against each other as Vortex shifted.

“Get in the air you fool!” he yelled as he pulled up.

“Cogs damaged.” Blades shouted back, stumbling in the downdraft from the Decepticons rotors.

“You're gonna owe me for this,” Vortex said as he dove back down, “Grab on!” 

Blades didn't need to be told twice, making a mad leap and grab for Vortex's landing gear as he turned his nose back to the sky. Of course it would have been easier if Vortex had landing skids like any normal rotary, but no, he just has to be special and have wheels. It is much harder to hang onto a wheel assembly then it is skids. Only once Vortex was high enough did Blades look down to see the shifting mass of organic life that was phasing in and out of view.

Positive side: they'd stopped chasing the rest of them. Negative side: they were massing underneath Vortex and staying underneath. “I shoot, you fly?” Blades asked as Vortex turned towards the base, the metallic looking walls seeming out of place against the red backdrop.

“If you can actually hit any of them.” Vortex shouted back over the sound of his rotors, and Blades could hear the taunt in his voice.

“As long as you manage to fly straight.” Blades yelled back as he unleashed his cannon into the writhing mass. He wasn't actually sure he did any damage, despite knowing that his weaponfire actually hit them, but he sure as Pit did make them mad. Very mad in fact.

They followed all the way to the base, jumping up and shifting around beneath them and he could almost hear their thoughts. _'Going to have to come down eventually... then we'll have you...'_

Except... Returning to the ground was not part of the plan anytime soon. At least, not the ground that they were occupying.

“Well, look at that.” Vortex finally said as he hovered over the roof so Blades could jump down and the Decepticon could transform. They looked over the edge, watching the mass of organics prowling around the outside of a large trench filled with some form of liquid.

“It's highly alkaline.” First Aid said as he peered out of a door beneath them. “It wouldn't mix with their acid very well.”

“How the slag did you get across it then?” Vortex asked as he swung his frame over the edge and in through the door. First Aid pressed himself against the wall to avoid being flattened.

“The base still has power, an automatic bridge extended when I approached, it pulled back once those things were detected though.”

“Whoever built this wasn't stupid.” Blast Off said as he too came up to the door take a look.

“I bet they still find a way in though.” The mournful voice echoed out from inside followed by a crunch of metal on metal. First Aid disappeared and Blast Off gave Blades a startled look as the sounds of the ambulance lecturing Vortex for unnecessary wanton violence could clearly be heard. He hauled himself over the edge and swung into the building, shrugging at Blast Off as he went. How First Aid could reduce any mech at all to an apologetic scrap was a mystery to every mech on the Ark.

Or at least to an annoyed agreement that Vortex wouldn't hit Dead End again while they were here. Not quite an apologetic cower, but from Blast Off's amazement Blades deduced that must have been some kind of record.

“So. Plan?” Hey somebody had to be the responsible one. And no, Blades was aware it wasn't usually him, but he couldn't really imagine having Dead End in charge? The plan? 'Sit here till the organics get in and melt us into a rusty acidic pile of scraps or alternatively we slowly rust into scraps anyway while waiting.'

“Look around and see if you can find any subspace communications.” Lightspeed says as First Aid digs a finger into his knee joint.

“Perhaps we should stick together.” Dead End suggested as he peered up what appeared to be stairs to the upper floor. Behind him Blades noticed Vortex shake his helm at Blast Off. He did notice however that the two Combaticons stayed together as they chose a different door to go through.

“Fine.” Blades muttered as he climbed the stairs, Dead End slinking along behind him. They should probably have added 'find the lighting controls' to the to do list as the red glow from the star the planet was orbiting was starting to disappear as it sank below the horizon.

He opened the first door, peering inside, but it seemed to be just a berthroom, as is the second and the third. The last one is more a storeroom and he edged inside, peering at the shelves.

“Ow. Frag it.”

He reset his optics just to be sure he was seeing correctly as he stared at the Decepticon now sat on the floor examining his foot and the slightly dinged plating of the aforementioned appendage. Then he looked at the item the Decepticon had fallen over. A smirk graced his faceplates. That was too good an opportunity to miss. “Aid? Aid!” He yelled. “Dead End has just kicked the bucket!”

There was silence from the ground floor for a few beats of his fuel pump before hurried steps indicate First Aid was on his way up the stairs. The medic bursts into the room, already looking around before his optical band glowed a brighter shade of blue as it rested on Dead End, a small growl escaping his vocaliser.

Blades winced as he staggers down the stairs and back into the main room, his helm still ringing slightly. He didn't think Aid meant to nail him on the helm with the bucket quite that hard, but he had been laughing far too much to care at the time.

“What the slag were you doing up there? Exchanging paint?” Vortex asked. “If you wanted to do that you didn't have to go into a private room you know.”

“You upset you didn't get a good show?” Blades asked with a leer, waggling his rotors slightly.

“Couldn't have been that good if you're finished already.” Vortex said as his own twitch dismissively on his back.

He doesn't get a chance to answer as First Aid stepped out of the stairwell. His smirk was hidden behind his surgical mask, but Blades knew it was there.

“Oh no Vortex.” First Aid all but purred. “That was just the foreplay, we haven't even got to the part where we tangle cables yet.”

Blades grinned as Vortex just stood there, his vocaliser crackling vainly as he tried to come up with an answer. Blast Off calmly reached out a hand and smacked it down on his gestaltmates helm. Obviously a well practised manoeuvre as Vortex shut up.

“We found the control room.” The shuttle spoke into the silence and Lightspeed heaves himself to his feet to limp through to find it, muttering about there having to be a subspace comm. in there and not listening to this slag any longer.

If only it could be that simple. But no, for once Dead End was spot on with his prediction. The comm link wasn't working. Last anyone had seen of Lightspeed had been his aft sticking out from underneath a console. A conscripted and oddly silent Dead End was sat beside the wiggling aft with an old looking set of tools which must have been scrounged from somewhere. He had a vaguely resigned air about him as he passed tools under the console when the muffled voice demanded them.

“So.” Blades jumped, his armour clamping in to his frame as his weapon flipped out of subspace and into place on his arm before he realised that the voice and heavy thump was merely Blast Off settling down beside him.

“So what?” he asked when the shuttle didn't elaborate on his oh so informative one word statement.

“Is _he_ always like _that_?” One finger helpfully indicated the medic waving around a gatling gun while Vortex ducked each time First Aid made any sort of point in his lecture that involves the gun either pointing at Vortex or passing through the space his helm would have been occupying if he hadn't ducked.

“Yes.” Blades finally says after a moment of consideration.

“I thought he was a pacifist?” Blast Off finally asked.

Blades stares at his gestalt mate before comprehension kicked in like a rock to the helm. “Oh! Yeah, he is. He just tends to forget what he's holding when he starts lecturing.”

On the other side of the room Vortex finally made his inevitable mistake and curses as his own gun left a dent on the side of his helm. First Aid took it all in stride and simply scanned the new dent before shrugging and continuing his lecture, slapping away Vortex's hands as he tried to check his gun for damage.

Apparently getting Vortex to submit to repairs was as hard as getting stubborn Dinobots into the medbay for check-ups. At least, that was the sensation Blades received through the gestalt link from Aid as the medic once again indicated to the patch of floor he wished Vortex to occupy. However, just like the Dinobots even Vortex could not withstand the full force of First Aid when unleashed on him. Albeit the surrender included a lot of grumbling and a sullen glare, but it was still a surrender, and from the surprise in Blast Off's voice, apparently this was pretty rare.

Blast Off leaned over and Blades has to resist the urge to edge away, despite the unofficial truce currently in place. The shuttle was more looming than leaning and Blades suddenly felt rather small in comparison. “Do you think your medic could teach somebody else to do that?”

“I don't think so. It seems to be a First Aid thing.”

“Huh. I'll just have to take him back with us.”

“Don't you dare!” Blades was on his feet in an instant, glaring at the shuttle as he fought the urge to bring his weapon out. Blast Off just tilted his helm to one side slightly and Blades points an accusing finger at him.

“That was a joke. You made a joke.” Blades still looks like he can't quite wrap his processor around that as he sat back down, a soft and not quite covered up bit of laughter escaping Blast Off.

Whatever the shuttle was about to say in response was cut off by a yell from the next room, Lightspeed's “Eureka!” echoing through the outpost.

“Does that mean we're going to die?” Dead End's plaintive question could also be plainly heard.

Across the room Vortex covered his visor with the arm First Aid wasn't working on reattaching his cannon onto. “Sometimes I despair.” he muttered.

“Okay. I got it. I've located us in relation to Earth.” Lightspeed said as he appeared in the doorway, his armour coated in a layer of dust and grease.

“And?” First Aid prompted.

“And if you turn into your altmode then it's not that far and we could all be back in no time. Well. Compared to how long it could have been if we'd ended up on the opposite side of the galaxy.” He very clearly looks at Blast Off

Every gaze turned in the Combaticon's direction and the shuttle shifted slightly where he was sitting. “I suppose.” he finally said when First Aid rather pointedly returns to working on Vortex's arm. “A deal's a deal.”

* * *

Blades got the impression that Blast Off was starting to regret upholding his end of the deal if the angry growl reverberating around the hold from his speakers was any indication.

“I was created to fly.” The shuttle's voice echoed around his cabin and hold, “I am not going to crash into anything. Keep suggesting otherwise and I'll see how well you fly when I toss you out.” 

Dead End shrank down in the copilot seat. “Sorry. But think of all the different things that could...” The sound of a vocaliser being muted was clearly audible.

“Wise choice,” Blast Off muttered.

The silence lasted for almost five Earth minutes, not even Lightspeed daring to speak up again from the pilot's chair with any questions about what it was like to fly..

Obviously anything more would be pushing it. Blades thought his attention span was short, at least, that's what the rest of his gestalt always said. But he had nothing on Vortex. The Decepticon had the attention span of the small gold coloured fish that humans keep in tanks as pets

“Sooooooo...” Vortex said as he rolled closer to where First Aid was leaning against Blades' shoulder. “I've got a few more dents you know.” He sprawled out, rotor blades twitching slightly as he peered up at the medic.

“And?” Blades growled out before First Aid can speak up.

“What, I can't ask a medic for help in straightening them out?” Vortex asked, the picture of innocence as he propped his helm on his hands.

“Have Hook do it when you get back, it's only your outer plating.” Blades snapped out.

“What about removing the kinks from my wiring?” Vortex tried as he shuffled closer.

“Not life threatening.” Blades said with a bored tone.

“Massaging my tension cables?”

“Still a no.”

“Recalibrating my rotor hub, it's itching.” The rotor blades in question fluttered softly.

“No!” Blades growled before muttering, “I'll recalibrate your face soon.”

First Aid finally speaks up, an amused lilt in his voice. “Well, since you are both rotary frames, I suggest you both help each other.”

Vortex looked horrified, despite the presence of his blast mask, and he recoiled, rolling away until he hit a bulkhead. “No, no. I'll errr, wait until we get back and go and see Hook.”

Blades can't help the pleased smirk as he tightened his arm around First Aid. No Decepticon was having his medic, even if he had to stay online and not recharge all the way to Earth.

* * *

Prowl gives Blades a rather flat look as he peers at him from across his desk, a datapad sitting innocently between them. “Mission reports should not be a personal account of your thoughts but a factual report of the facts and events that occurred. All the events, not just the ones you think are important.”

Through the gestalt link Blades can almost hear First Aid laughing at him as he picks the pad up. It's not his fault that Prowl can't understand a good report when it's laid in front of his optics. “Yes Sir.” Blades says before he leaves the office. Already wondering if Prowl wants to know about the rest of the shuttle journey since, well, he didn't add that because he didn't think Prowl would appreciate knowing _exactly_ what they had done to pass the time.


End file.
